


when i'm closer to your height

by ohmcgee



Series: Peter/Tony One-Shots [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Denial, Drunkenness, M/M, One Shot, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-06
Updated: 2018-05-06
Packaged: 2019-05-02 22:33:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14554971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohmcgee/pseuds/ohmcgee
Summary: No,no.They’re not doing this.





	when i'm closer to your height

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Please don't leave me. From [this](http://tiptoe39.tumblr.com/post/152690639271/super-sappy-lines-prompt-list) prompt list.

“Ridiculous,” Tony says for the third time since he’d gotten Peter into the car. “Absolutely ridiculous. I swear to god if you puke in this car I’m leaving it and you right here on this poorly lit side street in the middle of Queens. I don’t care if it is a prototype. I don’t care if I saw two people get shot on the way here. I do not  _ do _ vomit, Parker. Are you even listening to me?”

Peter looks at him from the passenger seat, nods vehemently, then quickly opens the door and pukes on the sidewalk.

“Good boy,” Tony says, patting him on the back half-heartedly.

 

***

 

After listening to Peter puke twice more, Tony figures it's probably safe for them to start moving, and shortly after he puts the car into drive Peter slumps against the window and passes out, his head cradled by the seat belt. Maybe it's just because it's too quiet in the car, but a weird feeling settles inside Tony as he drives Peter home. Sure, he’s insanely annoyed at the kid for using his  _ emergency _ number to essentially drunk dial him, and he had let Peter know just how annoyed he was in no uncertain terms as he led him to his car, but he feels like there’s more to it than just being pissed at being used as the kid's personal chauffeur at two in the morning.  

Looking over at Peter, something tugs at Tony from behind his ribs. He knows the kid’s been having a rough time lately. As if monsters and psychos tearing up the city weren’t enough, he has to be a teenager on top of it all. He’s got homework and his grades to worry about, some dickhead who won’t leave him alone at school, and apparently he just got dumped by some idiot girl. Even when Peter sleeps there’s a tension in the way he holds himself, like he feels he can never really rest, and not for the first time Tony hates himself for dragging him into this.

This, getting drunk and being reckless and stupid, this is what Peter should be doing every Saturday night if he wants. He should be kissing girls and playing football and getting detention and doing what every normal sixteen-year-old boy does without having to worry about the world going to hell because of it. Getting dumped by a pretty girl should be the worst problem he has.

But it’s not. Because Tony Stark is and always has been a very stupid, very selfish man.

 

***

 

Fortunately for Peter, May’s working the graveyard shift that night. Unfortunately for Tony, not everyone who lives in the apartment building is asleep at two in the morning and he gets a few scandalous looks as he walks up the stairs. He’d tried to get the kid to wake up once he’d pulled in front of the building, but after about ten minutes of poking him and saying his name in different intonations, Tony realized it wasn’t happening, got out of the car, and threw Peter over his shoulder in a fireman carry. About halfway up the stairs to his apartment, Tony realizes another thing: this shit is much easier when he’s wearing the suit. 

“Mr. Stark?” Peter says groggily when Tony stops to lean against the wall and catch his breath.

“Oh, thank god,” Tony says, letting Peter slide off his shoulders, propping him up against the wall with a firm hand to his chest since he’s still a bit wobbly on his legs. “I’m pretty sure if I had to do that any longer I was either going to have a heart attack or get arrested. Have you been lifting weights? I swear to god you’ve put on fifty pounds.”

Peter blinks at him.

“Right,” Tony says. “Still drunk. You good to walk?”

“Uh,” Peter says, blushing a little around his ears, like maybe he is sobering up a little bit and is just now realizing he basically drunk dialed his boss. “Yeah. I’m...good. You don’t have to. You can just go back to ---”

“Oh no,” Tony says. “I got out of bed and drove to Queens in the middle of the night and listened to you puke and oh yeah, carried you up three flights of stairs. I might as well make sure you don’t pass out in the toilet or something while I’m here.”

Then he makes a shoo’ing motion at Peter and Peter complies, his cheeks going pink this time.

When they get to May’s apartment, Peter pulls the chain around his neck out from under his shirt and uses the key on it to unlock the door. Tony follows him in and looks in the fridge while Peter heads straight for the bathroom. After he gets out, Tony’s waiting for him in his room, a bottle of water in one hand and a couple of pills in the other.

“Pretty sure this is your first rodeo,” Tony says. “So I’ll give you a quick rundown of how this is going to play out. You’re going to wake up praying for death. Pretty much no getting around that. However, if you hydrate --” He shakes the bottle of water in front of his face. “-- and take a couple of these every four hours, it won’t be quite as bad. Maybe. Me? I’m that guy everyone hates that can drink all he wants and never gets a hangover. You could say...it’s my superpower.”

Peter squints at the lame joke, but he takes the water and the pills from Tony and swallows them down.

“Also?” Tony says, fiddling with the rubik’s cube on Peter’s nightstand. “May’s gonna know. Don’t ask me how, but she will. Just go with it. She’s more understanding than you give her credit for.”

He turns his head as Peter kicks off his jeans and pulls the covers back before crawling in bed.

“Right then,” Tony says, setting the rubik’s cube back down and heading toward the door. His job here is done, he supposes. “Eat something greasy when you wake up. It’ll help --”

“Mr. Stark,” Peter says quietly, his voice muffled by the quilt pulled up to his nose.

Tony pauses before he reaches the door. No,  _ no.  _ They’re not doing this. They were  _ this _ close to pretending this never happened, to waking up tomorrow and never, ever talking about what Peter said to him on the phone when he called, or the way he’d pressed against him when Tony had found him at the party before dragging him out.

“Please don’t leave,” Peter says and it takes Tony a moment to realize that what’s off about his voice isn’t the drunkenness; Peter’s crying.

“Whoa,” Tony says, walking back over to where he had been standing next to the bed. “Hey. You gonna get maudlin on me? What’s going on?”

Peter doesn’t answer, just sniffles. Tony sighs heavily, chews at the inside of his cheek for a good minute, then finally sits down on the bed next to Peter.

“Hey,” he says, softer, reaching out and thumbing a fresh tear away from Peter’s cheek. “I won’t leave. Okay? I’m not going anywhere. Promise.”

Peter swallows and nods his head. He looks like he wants to say something, his mouth parting slightly to let the words out, but in the end he thinks better of it and keeps it to himself.

Tony envies the self-restraint. It’s not something he was ever any good at.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
